blues & greys
The fingers of this hand with which I write-
Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live,
Can it be right to give what i can give,
Is it so that life, gives life, that gives life.
Sorrow has shut me safe in loves device
Through the ashen greys, I shudder it off-
Lift my heart up high as it on a loft,
None of these thoughts are enough to suffice
Yet, love, real love is beautiful indeed-
Iíll never give your lock of hair away-
So today, today, I will dream a day,
My love is but a dribble, a mere bead.
I lift my heart upwardly, solemnly
The ashes at my feet behold and see.